He has not often been on this side of the conversation and something cold streaks through him with the realization that this is how he has made others feel—how he made Anonya feel. It leaves an ache in his bones that he is not sure that he will ever shake. Something that will follow him the rest of his days, for however long he is to walk this earth in the second coming, this second life that he has been given.
The entire moment plays out quickly for him and yet too slow.
He knew what was coming—in that strange way that intuition prepares you for the worst—and yet he can feel the way that the knife buries in his chest all the same. To the hilt. He winces, grimaces, and grits his teeth until the muscle in his jaw jumps. Plume swallows hard at the realization that she not only had a child with someone else. That she had made a mistake. But that she had started a family with them.
“Oh,” is all that comes out at first. An exhale, more than anything. The breath whistles out between his teeth and he feels the hot air across his tongue, the way it empties his lungs, the way that he deflates. He draws his wings in close to him, as if he could protect himself from the brutality of this moment.
He stares at the ground, hard, willing himself to be strong enough to look at her. When he finally does look up, his face is raw. He was not strong enough to put on the mask of indifference like he had hoped.
“Was I not enough?”
The question is weak, he knows, but he has to hear the answer. Has to hear that he had followed her back into this world and was not enough to fill the void—that she had needed more than he could offer.
It’s what he would deserve.
PLUME
but my heart, it don’t beat, it don’t beat the way it used to